lunes, 22 de septiembre de 2014


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Author: Elizabeth Segoviano

-Even the smallest creatures can have great stories, and perfom incredible deeds- … that was what Sneezer used to think, he was one of the last existing great dragons … well, to be honest, Sneezer was not exactly great or big, but he was a dragon, it was enough  to see him sneeze to know it, because every time he did it, huge flames came out of his nose and mouth (wich was too big … for such a tiny dragon) .
The real problem was that Sneezer was allergic to everything … well, okay, perhaps I am exagerating, Sneezer was only allergic to flowers, all of them! (even the ones made of plastic) he was also allergic to peanuts, strawberries, to raspberries, blueberries, to apples, dust, to perfume … he was allergic to soap, but only if it was blue, he was allergic to wool, poliéster, to seafood, roquefort cheese (but not to cheddar cheese!) he was allergic to birds, feathers, to grass, tap water, to cats, insects, to dogs … well, he wasn´t really allergic to dogs, he was only really afraight of them. Sneezer was also allergic to faries, goblins, and even to Santa´s elves, he was  allergic to christmas decorations too … but only if they were made of chineese plastic … so … Sneezer was allergic to almost everything, and that was the reason why there had been so many accidental fires, so you can guess Sneezer was not very liked and he almost never was invited to parties, or picnics … but he was invited to all barbecues! … but most barbecues took place during summer time, when there were lots of bees and polen floating in the wind and that caused him allergies so … Sneezer prefered no to attend.

Sneezer had looked for doctor`s help but when they saw he was a dragon … (a tiny one, but still a dragon) they feared him and didn`t even want to see him, that situation made Sneezer cry, and he was allergic to tears, and puffff the result had been a dozen doctors with burnt eyebrows.
Since then Sneezer decided to wear a soft mask made of hipoalergenic fabric and he began to clean his house constantly with purple soap … that did not make him sneeze and he spent his days working at home, designing web sites, because nor computers nither internet made him sneeze.
Thats how he found a blog called “the manual of dragons, a draconic guide that all dragons most read”. Sneezer really enjoyed reading that information because he tought it was invented and it seemed very unlikely that a blog made by children could contain any truth in it.
Each friday the kids updated their blog, and they talked about all the different races of dragons, and about the great amazing dragons that had existed throughout history, they also made drawings and sketches of dragon skeletons and wings . they also talked about the favourite  food of dragons, their hobbies and traditions and so on and so on.
And each friday our little dragon had lots of fun reading the new information and he always posted a comment on each new entry and signed it as sneezerdragon.
But then one friday there was no new entry, and another friday and another friday without new information, that seemed a little odd to the tiny dragon who had become very fonded with the authors of the blog and he missed them, and he tought the kids maybe had gotten tirad of talking about dragons. Nevertheless the little voice in Sneezer`s head was saying something wasn´t right, so he sent this message :
Dear draconologists,
I really miss your stories and your helpful information. I hope you  Comeback soon, greetings, Sneezer the dragon.

When Sneezer signed his message with that name someone tought he was a real dragon and this was the answer he received :
Sneezer the dragon,
If you ever want to know from your nosy draconlogist friends come alone to the old belfry of our lady of the sacred choppy pigeons, if you do not come you can kiss goodbye to your little friends.
Sincerely, Sir Drakon Blacken Tongue.
When Sneezer read those words he got scared, whas that a joke? Was it really happening? Was it possible? And why that strange name sounded so familiar?
Our little dragon decided to enter the strange name on Google and inmediatly he knew why it rang a bell on n his head, Drakon Blacken Tongue was the name of an ancient dragon who had stalked the old continent, his brutalities had been documented in  medieval books that disappeared misteriously. And Sneezer`s friends had talked about him on their last entry.
Sneezer decided that the situation as crazy as it seemed, was completely real, so he gathered all the key information that he could and took his backpack and a couple of  hipo allergenic masks and he went to the old belfry of the lady of the sacred choppy pigeons.

The old abandoned tower was spooky, dark and full os spider webs, with strange noises Cumming out of every corner, but Sneezer was determined to rescue the kids so he made wis way with a flashlight on one hand and his desinfectant soap on the other one.
Drakon Blacken Tongue! –shouted Sneezer- his voice filled the air with echoes that seemed to wrap him like the vendages of the ancient momies.
Alter a long time he finally heard some murmors by the end of a dusty  crooked hall.
-       Is SIR, SIR Drakon Blacken Tongue, a title I earned –Sneezer hid between the missing bricks on a wall, he tried to calm down and he opened his backpack very carefuly then, he tried to sound like a real great dragon-
-       A noble title without a doubt, one that was given to you centuries ago for protecting a kingdom, back when you still had honor, but, I see with great sadness that those times are long gone, tell me what kind of Sir would threaten kids? What honor is in such act? The draconing code is very simple, a dragon most be fair, protect the weak and the inocent, and most of all a dragon has to be honorable, now you are nothing but a vulgar criminal!!!
-       Honor??? You dare to talk to me about honor??? What honor have those pretencious arrogant kids to call themselves draconologists???  What right did they have to tell our secrets and to expone our history???
-       They are just children!!! Inocent children who admire dragons!!! Children who dreamt of those ancient stories of knights and dragons who Project and watch over kingdoms!!! Children who had nothing but admiration for a legendary dragon named  Sir Drakon Blacken Tongue!!!
-       Those children dared to climb my mountain, to look for my den, they took photographs and they expose me on their stupid blog … in a heartbeat I had strangers Trading to get to my home, in any moment they are going to find you too and we will end up in on eof those monstrous laboratorios surrounded by cruel doctors and crazy cientists who are gonna cut us open to study us, if you want me to give you those idiot kids back, you are gonna have to walk over my dead body!!!
-       SIR … Sir Drakon Blacken Tongue … such grandiose name for a dragon, grandiose … is amazing that you are afraight of a few kids … but if this is what you want then … SO BE IT!!!
Sneezer came out of his hiding place and when Sir Drakon saw him he laugh long and hard, a laughter that could have go round and round the world , Sneezer the dragon was no bigger than a lizzard, he was skiny, pale and wore glasses and a scarf, and he was holding a ridiculus   sword made of cartonboard and a botle of soap.

-       Are you going to desinfect me to death Sneezer??? Ha ha ha ha with that ridiculous name I should have known you were nothing but a mokery, a joke! Now beat it, and leave alone and stay out of my business!
-       In this case Sir Drakon, your “business” are my business – then Sneezer spread his tiny wings and he flew to the face of the huge dragon to sprayed him with the desinfectant rght on the eyes, Sir Drakon squealed and he walked away rubbing his teary eyes, but Sneezer did not step back, he took away his hipo allergenic masks and he stuck his big mouth in his backpack. In it there was a buque of dandelion flowers, the flower he was most allergic to, he also had some Christmas decorations made in China, a bunch of strawberries, a bag of blue soap, a wool sweater and two punds of shezuan pepper. The smell inside the backpack went deep into Sneezer`s nose and he twisted, growled, jumped, howled, he twisted his eyes and his belly began to swell like a a party balloon. Before such vision Sir Drakon was confused and when he wanted to run away from Sneezer a sneeze of epic dimentions came out flaying like a cannon ball from the little dragon`s nose at ten thousand miles per hour. And with it the flames that follow were huge and colorful … and he wouldn`t stop sneezing.
-       AAAASSSSHUUUUUUUUU ….. AAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHUUUUUUUUUUU –each sneeze brought more flames that were surrounding Sir Drakon Blacken Tongue, who could not see where he was stepping, and heat was unberable, as if he was in the inside of a mad volcano, and he could only cover up his face.
-       I GIVE UP! I GIVE UP! –said Sir Drakon craying-
After hearing those words our brave little dragon took out of is backpack a jar of mint lotion, the only thing that could calm his allergies, and the last sneeze was one full of stiky and green mucus that stinguish the flames.
-       Where are the children?
-       Oh, oh, oh, oh poor me! –said a very burnt Sir Drakon- I had never felt such heath and I am a dragon, oh, oh, oh, oh! Your friends are on the basement … oh , oh, oh!
-       Calm down and come with me, you will be staying at my place until you feel better, and we will find you a new mountain, I will ask my friends to tell everyone that all the stuff they wrote are nothing but invented stories, and that the pictures of your den were made on the computer, after all we do not want to end up in one of those lab jars … but I will not call you SIR, you do not deserve that title, you are gonna have to earn it again.
-       Oh, oh, oh, oh poor me! … allright … I did not behave like a dragon … oh, oh, oh, oh poor me!
That day our little great heroe rescue the children and together they looked for a new home for Drakon Blacken Tongue, who gace his title of SIR to our little friend … Sir Sneezer, guardian of all children, reader of fat books, comenter of blogs and a big fan of purple desinfectant.

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jueves, 4 de septiembre de 2014


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This is a story very close to my heart, very real and ... I hope you enjoy it xoxo Eliz

Author: Elizabeth Segoviano , all rights reserved 2014

Flor was a girl, she was bearly seven years old, and she was almost like all seven-year old little girls. She was curious, playful, talkative, sweet, and sometimes she was used to thew tantrums, nevertheless, there was something that made of Flor a quite different kind of girl, she liked to write and tell stories, and they were really good! She had enherited  that ability from his dear grandfather Marcus, who had been telling stories to Flor ever since she was in her mom´s tummy, and because of that, Flor had been born with her mind full of letters, letters that turned into words, words that turned into phrases, and phrases that formed beautiful stories about fairies, heroes, knights, witches, magical animals, flying carpets, elfs and enchanted pumpkins, and hundred … thousand of amazing characters came out of her words.
And every night, grandpa Marcus and Flor used to lay down under the stars to make up stories that were heard with much attention by fireflies and  crickets, by flowers and the moon, by the cats on the rooftops and, of course, by the stars, who used to smile and twinkle with joy as they listened to Flor telling her stories.
Besides, at school, our little storyteller was very popular, for her friends always asked her to tell mistery stories, or grand tales of adventures, something about pirates, dragons or ghosts, and of course, Flor just loved that! But what Flor loved the most was to spend sundays sitted on her grandpa´s lap  while they were typing together their stories on his very old and noisy type writer. Every now and then they stopped typing and Flor would made some drawings to ilustrate their tales, because grandpa Marcus and Flor wanted to write lots and lots of books to make a library, so everyone who love tales as much as they did, could enjoy them.

But sometimes there are things that happen in life … things that noone wants to happen, but they happen anyway, and grandpa Marcus got sick, he spent many days in bed until one warm and clear night he closed his eyes and he went to that place where dreams are born, to that place we all come from but some how we don´t seem to remember clearly, he went there where shooting stars are born, to that place where fireflies end their journey, there, where stars turn into an endless waterfall of light, to that place where our hearts were made.
Since that moment something inside Flor broke down, her little seven-year old heart was left with a huge void, it was like one of those enormous black holes that wander the universe. Flor felt that her letters were slipping through that hole, and she  only had a bunch of nothingness left …
As days went by Flor stopped telling stories, she didn´t type them and she wasn´t making drawings anymore, it was a if all the words in the world would have been erased, and at night, the garden where the girl and her grandfather used to tell stories went silent … and the crickets, the fairies, the flowers, the moon and the stars wondered what had happen to Flor, they didn´t understand why she wasn´t telling stories anymore.
After a while, Flor´s friends and parents would ask her to tell them fairy tales, they ask her to continue with the library she and her grandpa had dreamt  and then Flor felt something different in her heart, it was like a little sparkle that was traying to lit a flame, but the spark wasn´t strong enough, it almost seemed like she had inside just a wet box of matches, a broken motor who wouldn´t start. Everytime the little girl would take  pencil and paper to start writing “Once upon a time” or “ A long log time ago, in a kigdom far far away” she couldn´t continue writing  … she really didn´t have more letters inside!!!
With each try, the girl began to write less and less, the “once upon a time” became a “once upo …” and the  “a long long time ago” became a “a long lon…” and so on and so on, until she could only write and “O” or an “A” and then, not even that.
She tried to write the ABCs but she could  only write half an “A” in that moment she decided that it would be better to tell the stories instead of writing them down, so she gathered her family and friends in the garden and she began to say “In a Kingdom far far away” … everyone were looking at her smilling, waiting to hear a fabulous story, but Flor for some reason could not continue, she took a deep breath, clear her throat and tried one again : “In a Kingdom …” hmmm … “In a king …” hmm … hmm  … then, what Flor feared the most, happened SHE HAD RAN OUT OF LETTERS!!!
Doctors couldn´t found an explanation to what was happening to her, so they just recomended her to get some rest and to drink plenty of lemon tea with honey.
Flor was deeply sad, that little spark inside of her wouldn´t burn, the motor that made her tell stories would only cough and smoke, her letters had slipped away through a huge black hole and all she had left was silence.
After looking for an answer for long time, Flor decided to read many books, as many as she could get, and so she read and read, devouring book after book, and she also tought that wouldn´t do any harm to eat plenty of letters soup that her mom cooked so deliciously, because she wanted to fill that hole in her heart with plenty of letters so se could tell stories once again.
Many days went by and those days became months, and little by little Flor could talk again, but it didn´t matter how hard she tried, she just couldn´t tell stories anymore … but she continued  eating her letter soup  and reading a much as she could. And one night Flor realized a hole year had passed since her grandfather had gone, so that night of full moon Flor went to the garden and layed down on the grass to look at the stars like she used to do, and she stared at the sky very quietly … and in that moment she heard it, it was like a murmur, but then she discovered it was a cry, so she looked around and she noticed all the tiny fairies from the garden along with the crickets, the snails, the flowers the moon and the stars were the ones craying, so Flor asked them why were they craying and they all said “BECAUSE NOONE TELLS STORIES TO US ANYMORE!” Those words put a knot on Flor`s stomach and her eyes were filled with tears and she ran back into her house. She slamed the door so hard that one of the manuscripts she had written with her grandfather Marcus fell off the bookshelf. Flor picked it up very carefuly and she started to leaf through the book and to read the stories she and her grandpa had invented with so much love through so many sundays … right at the end of the manuscript there was another page, one written by hand, it was her grandpa`s handwriting, it said : “my little one, maybe you can´t see me anymore, but it doesn´t mean that I am not with you, for I am each letter, each phrase that you and I had ever written, I am the rythmical noise in our old beaten up type writer, I am the smell of paper and ink, I am every color on your watercolor case, I am the softness of the grass where you lay down, I am some star that is watching over you, waiting for you to tell me more stories, I am a little piece of your heart, the piece that beats with joy when you imagine a new character and a new adventure, I am your history and your memories, you carry me with you when you scribble a new phrase, I am that little funny noise that your pencil makes on a fresh sheet of paper when you write in hurry so as to not loosing an idea, I am still with you my little one, we can meet on a white sheet of paper whenever you want to, or under the shimmering glow of the full moon”.
When Flor read those words she cried, but they where happy tears, because as usual, her grandpa was right, and he was there with her, on her letters and  anywhere she would look to imagine a new story, Flor held the manuscript, kissed it, and then she put it back into it´s place on the bookshelf and then she dusted off her old typewriter and her stories began to flow just like magic, they were falling on the paper  like fresh rain.
Flor began to tell her stories again under the stars to make them laugh because now she knew that her grandfather was one of them, and he was waiting eagerly to hear a new story, a new adventure, another tale to keep on laughing.
The little spark on Flor´s chest had finally started her fire, her motor was sppining at high speed, and the hole from wich her letters had ran off was at last closed and now she culd filled that void with stories.

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domingo, 20 de julio de 2014


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Today is July the 20th , do you know what that means? No? well today is FRIEND´S DAY! at least in Argentina! where I have a bunch of friends, in my country, Mexico we celebrate friends on valentine´s day, but is really cool to have two days to celebrate friendship, don´t you think? so here I will leave you a little poem I wrote for this special occasion.

Elizabeth Segoviano copyright© 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Oh heaven above!
Let my friends be always sheltered and loved.
May they never know the meaning of loneliness and grief.
Let them feel the grace of the universe within.
Let them know my arms are wide open to receive them with kindness, empathy and joy .
Make them see I am nothing but the mirror that reflects of the best of them.

Oh heaven above!
May my friends find paths of light, and the freedom to spread their wings and sing their songs like all mighty sparrow kings .
Heaven … grant me the strenght to be their support if they ever fall, give me the power to be light if darkness strikes and the wisdom to know when to be a silent listener or when to tell them off.

Heaven, send all your angels to protect them, to guide them, to free them, to love them as much as I do.

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lunes, 14 de julio de 2014


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This is not a story and not really a poem, I guess is just a bunch of beautiful words I put together for a very dear friend of mine, the always lovable Andrea ... my sweet child this is from the bottom of my heart to yours, and it is the truth and nothing but the truth ;)

Elizabeth Segoviano copyright©2014
"We can dream eachother to a new day where the good guys always win and heaven still means something" -Darren Hayes

Dreams can never die because they are made of starlight ... 
Just remember that even a dead star keeps shinning through space and time bringing life and joy to those in search for hope.

Dreams can never die because they are like a phoenix in disguise, they might be set on fire and burn to the ground, but from the ashes they shall reborn stronger, more beautiful, and more magical than you can ever imagine.
And then your heart will be ignited with the spark of love and life.

Dreams can never die, they are a gift given by angels, don´t forget we are meant to fly.
The world can be cruel and people can be unkind, they my destroy what you have built ...
but oh little girl! I know your will is stronger than steel!

Dreams can never die!
Comeone, say it with me! And then say it again, tell it to the mirror and tell it to the moon.
And I promise you the pain will be over soon

Sing with me! Dreams can never die! They can be rebuilt, reignited and brought back to life.
Dreams can never die because they come from that special place inside your heart that was made by the endless love of heaven and the blessings of every star.

Dreams can never die!
It says so in your soul
It says so in your  heart
Say it out loud and say it clear, and  then whisper it to me
Dreams can never die, because you are made of stars. 

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sábado, 28 de septiembre de 2013


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Rain seems to be endless around here, so I thought to write something nice about it :D happy weekend everybody xoxo, Eliz.

Copyright © Elizabeth Segoviano 2013

The rain told me while she was falling, what she saw when the city was snoring.
She told me about the life that was growing up in secret, hiding, rebelling, almost furtive among the streets of this huge city.

The rain told me about a shameless oak,
A very brave one, who dared to grow between a bank and a mall.
He had thought that he would have a very short life, and that as soon as someone saw him, he would be chopped off.
But the oak had already seen twenty springs, and sometimes, just sometimes, some dreamer and kind human being gave him a look and a smile ... and if it was a lucky day, the tree would even get a hug.

The rain told me while she was falling, what she saw when the city was snoring.
She told me about a numerous family of humming birds who lived among the blossom trees inside a play ground for little kids.
In there, among the children´s laughter, the humming birds would sing and tell their secrets, rhymes and poems without fear to be caged or hunted.

The rain told me while she was falling, what she saw when the city was snoring.
She told me in confidence ... whispering to my ear ... almost sighing, that street kittens are actually angels in disguise, walking around the rooftops of people with good heart. The kittens keep an eye on them so they can live their every dream.
That is why the kittens sing and dance all night long happy to know that in this world there´re still good souls.

The rain told me while she was falling, what she saw when the city was snoring.
She told me about the adventurous doves  who make their nests on the edge of towers, statues and sky scrapers just to be closer to the wind.
And the wind tells the doves the most beautiful legends of ancient lands and the sea.
The rain says that doves are willing to tell those stories to anyone who wants to listen to them ... at the low cost of a few bread crumbs.

The rain told me while she was falling, what she saw when the city was snoring.
She told me that when she peeked through windows she found people like me, a few rebels, shameless, furtive dreamers  walking around the city. People who smiles at trees and sings the tunes of humming birds, people who don´t scare street kittens away, people who wants to listen to the stories and legends of the doves ... paying the low cost of a few bread crumbs.
The rain knows that even in huge noisy cities there are people who wants to listen to what the rain wants to tell.  

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sábado, 31 de agosto de 2013


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It´s been really long time since my last entry, and I apologize to those readers who have contacted me by mail asking me if I had quit this blog, well, I haven´t quit! I simply got cought by work and other projects ... like this story, that is part of an anthology of tales by several authors to rise awareness about donatig organs called VIVO EN TI/I LIVE WITHIN YOU (this book is only in spanish, but I hope it will be available in English soon) this project was an idea by a very dear friend of mine, Oliver Herrero, who was supporting this campain ... Oliver passed away a few months ago ... but he wanted to complete this project and his family, very kindly continued with it ...
I never met such an amazing person before, someone who fought so hard to make everybody else´s dreams real, Oliver always was an angel and the world will never be the same without him ... but I know heaven is now a better place because he is in there ...
Oli, you are missed and loved ...  
In loving memory of Oliver Herrero 

© Elizabeth Segoviano 2013

Far beyond where your eyes can see ... over there, between constellations that doesn´t have a name yet, there is, and always has been the world of fairies.
Visible only to those who can see to see further away from reality.
That, was the happy home of a fairy named Liberyth, she was very joyful, naughty and curious. She wanted to investigate and explore everything around her.
Liberyth became friend with all the unicorns, she tamed more than one dragon, she met the wisest elves and the most playful goblins. But one particularly dark night when there was no moon shinning in the sky, Liberyth saw a dazzling light crossing the world of the fairies, and she wanted to follow it.
The fairy began to fly behind the beautiful light begging it to stop, because she had a thousand questions to ask, but that light was a shooting star and it had no time to stop and chat or play, because shooting stars most go every where, to make wishes real.
So when Liberyth tried to chase the star, her wings began to tear apart, and fell on earth like a fine dust that made the fireflies glow. Along with the dust also fell Liberyth a very joyful, naughty, curious, and reckless fairy who now didn´t have wings, and without them she would never be able to return home.

Liberyth found herself in a world without twelve moons in the sky, without colorful water, a world with no unicorns that take her wherever she wanted to, a world without dragons who defended her, a place with no wise elves who advised her, a place without flowers full of sunlight to sleep inside of them ... and then Liberyth got scared, she was lost, hurt, tired and completely alone. She lain against a rock and closed her eyes trying to hold back her tears.

When suddenly, a peculiar sound that she never heard before made her look up.
-       Coo, coo .. coo,coo?
Right in front of the fairy there was a beautiful fluffy white dove who was watching her with lots of curiosity.
-       Excuse me? –said Liberyth– please, speak slowly.
-       Coo, are you a fairy? coo, coo?
-       That´s right
-       And ... coo, what are you doing here? Coo, coo?
-       I was following a shooting star ... my wings got torn ... I fell ..
-       Coo ... you can´t go home? Coo, coo?
-       Not without my wings.
-       Coo, you can´t stay here, coo, coo, a cat could bite you, or humans could grab you and lock you in a tiny cage so you sing all day long for them ... coo, coo ... you better come with me ... coo, coo, come on! Jump on my back, I will take you to the old bell tower where I live ... coo, coo, is nice and cosy, and you can see the city ... coo, coo.
The fairy, feeling grateful climbed on the dove and they flew all over the sky of that huge city, passing skyscrapers, turning to the right, then to the left as fast as the wind, until they finally arrived to an old abandoned church. The dove placed gently the fairy on her nest, where she gave her to drink a few raindrops and some bread crumbs she had kept for dinner.
After such a long day, the fairy was exhausted and she snuggled under the dove´s wings to sleep peacefully.
But the dove wasn´t sleeping, she was worried about the fairy, because she knew that a fairy without wings could not live for too long on earth, and she also knew fairies were really important for children, because they create their dreams and choose the guardian angels who protect them.
So the dove made a decision, and she began to pull out all of her feathers ... each single one! But with them she made a pair of wings for the fairy. By dawn the dove was already trying them on Liberyth.

-       What have you done little dove?
-       Coo, coo ... a fairy is more important than a dove ... coo, coo, you most return home ... coo, coo
-       But without feathers you can´t fly ... is winter, you will not survive!
-       I will live –said the dove– through you ... coo, coo ... I will be your wings, that way I will be forever by your side ... coo, coo, you will remember me and I will never die, you will be part dove and I will be part fairy, and I will never leave you ... coo, coo.

The fairy, deeply touched by such amazing act of kindness, could only promise the dove that she would be the best fairy of all, that she would always protect children, and that her story would be told by the wise elves.
Frozen drafts of wind began to blow inside the bell tower, the cold was intense, and the dove was slowly falling asleep, she gave Liberyth one last sweet look and she closed her eyes, the fairy began to cry over the dove and in that moment, a soft ray of light surrounded the dove, that light was Lebenryth, the wisest and most powerful elf of all.
-       We most go home Liberyth, we need you
-       Lebenryth! –cried the fairy– the little dove!
-       I have seen the incredible sacrifice she made for you, and I will take her to our world among the stars, in there she will become a fairy and her story will be written in our sacred books, a fair reward for giving you her wings.

Since that day the bird is known as Dovenryth, the fairy of life, the courageous fairy that won her wings by saving a fairy´s life.

for those spanish readers you can download the book for free in here

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jueves, 14 de febrero de 2013


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I know it´s been long time since I posted any story, and I apologize for that, it´s been busy days, but I could not let pass by this valentine´s day just like that, so I will leave you these simple but honest words I wrote to a very dear friend of mine on a letter ... I know is not a fairy tale but I believe friendship is the most beautiful romance, is the one adventure that does have it´s "happily ever after" so ... happy valentine´s day!


by Elizabeth Segoviano 

You are an open road, a vast horizon, infinite light and an honest smile.
you´re my favorite part of the day.
you are the melody my heart sings, and your name is the prayer my mind says before I fall asleep.

On cloudy days you are pure sunlight, and my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
you´re my lucky charm, way better than a four- leaf clover, much better than a rabbit´s foot or a horseshoe.

A few words of yours can scare darkness away, and bring peace and comfort to my childish soul.
You are my wings, my wind and the sky.
When you hold my hand I know I can reach for the stars.
And even if we are apart I never feel lonely, lost, or drifting away.
because you are my lighthouse, my compass, my northern star and my unique and amazing boreal lights .

You are my friend, and without a doubt, the best part of me, you are a gift I receive every day, a blessing from heaven, a journey I don´t want to come to it´s end.
you, my friend, are everything is worth smiling for.
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I am a writer who wishes to share my stories with kids of all ages ;) to make them smile and have nice dreams. you can contact me at



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